Waltz
by plenoptic
Summary: They are old enough that they can reminisce about young love, old enough that alone time comes more rarely than ceasefires, but they're not too old to enjoy dancing together. OptimusXElita


**Waltz**

_Plenoptic_

**It's eleven o' clock, it's a Friday, I'm bored, and I feel like writing something with a grown-up and bonded Opt and Lita. **

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It was quiet, at least.

Social events had the tendency to become a fiasco in Iacon, but tonight was quiet. The ancient High Councilors attended, either with their sparkmates (those who had managed to woo a femme into bonding, anyway) or alone. Members of Cybertron's highest social order drifted around, and soft voices carried all throughout the wide hall.

Elita One sighed, leaning against the wall and turning her down-trodden face to the ceiling. After a long mission she'd have liked nothing more than to collapse on her berth and recharge away the next few cycles, but one of the High Councilors had invited her personally, and frankly she and her sparkmate were disliked in the Council enough as it was. It would be considered rude for her not to attend after a Councilor had gone out of his way to invite her. And he was one of the last Councillors who still supported her sparkmate, so Elita saw no reason to incite his wrath if all she had to do to prevent it was stand around for a cycle or two.

This brought her back to her original thought--at least this little get-together was _quiet_. This wasn't meant to be a party, but a small opportunity to relax in the middle of a harrowing war.

Elita smiled slightly when she felt a small brush against her spark. She reciprocated the touch, receiving a gentle wave of affection in return. She lowered her optics to scan the crowd casually, her smile widening at the sight of her massive sparkmate. It was nearly impossible to miss Optimus Prime in a crowd. This had everything to do with his height, yes, but Elita couldn't help but feel that her mate seemed to walk around with a spot light on him. This feeling was certainly encouraged by the flocks of adoring mechs and femmes that seemed to follow Prime everywhere he went.

Motivated by the soft calls of her warm spark, Optimus managed to fight his way through the crowd and moved towards her purposefully, his long legs carrying his huge frame with ease. Elita trailed her optics over his body as he grew closer, marveling at her handsome mech. She didn't know how it was possible for a mech to be so utterly intimidating and powerful and yet so graceful at the same time.

"Lita," Optimus murmured by way of greeting when he finally joined her, opening his arms. She went into his embrace gladly, sighing gently when his strong arms pulled her close. Optimus shuttered his optics, reveling in the feel of her slender frame, the small hands touching his chestplates, the sweet face nuzzling against his grill.

They said very little for a time. They'd been on the same mission together and had returned only cycles ago, but the post-mission chaos had prevented them from seeing one another properly. The time they spent together after missions was precious, precious time. For a few cycles after returning home, the Autobots' royal couple had the luxury of holing up in their quarters, away from the insanity of the base. They talked and comforted one another, wiping away the memories of another painful mission. They played around and relaxed. They made love, they joined sparks. It was impossible for either to be a soldier when in the presence of their bonded. Elita One became his Lita; Optimus Prime became any number of fond petnames that she felt like using.

"You're late," Elita accused gently, wrapping her arms around him. The many cables of his back were tense and taut beneath his armor. He released a soft groan of pain when her small fingers began to massage gently.

"Ratchet kept me a little longer than expected," he replied, one large hand lifting to cradle her face closer to his. His mouthplates placed a soft kiss upon her forehead. "I apologize."

"Don't." The prods of her massage turned to gentle strokes and caresses, and the mech in her arms relaxed visibly, shoulders lowering as he enjoyed her touch. Optimus began to hum softly, his deep blue optics shuttered as he wrapped one arm around her lower back, his free hand encasing hers gently.

Their hands were so very different. His bore numerous scars, the armor was worn and torn; hers still bore a look of delicacy, the armor still reasonably undamaged save for a dent or nick here and there. The size difference was incredible. He could nearly hold both her hands in one of his. One of those hands could probably crush the top of her helm, yet the touch of those same hands was always so utterly gentle and loving.

"Dance with me?" he prompted softly, and a winsome smile crossed her face. When they were young, they'd go out every night, find some place that was blasting music loud enough to make their audios ache, and he'd always begged her to dance with him. That had been a different time, a different Cybertron, but Optimus himself hadn't changed all that much. In his soft invitation she could hear the young, spirited mech she'd been so smitten with vorns and vorns ago.

"You know you don't have to ask," she murmured, returning the grip on her hand and wrapping her other arm around his neck. Optimus pulled her closer, azure optics dimming as they met hers. Lulled by the music, he led her away from the wall, slowly settling into the rhythm of the music.

Elita shuttered her optics, pressing close to his warm physique and touching her face to his. Her lips brushed his, foreplate nestling just below his. Optimus rumbled softly, his thick fingers lightly caressing her hip.

Comfortable in his embrace, Elita reached her spark to his, eager to feel the warm nirvana that only her life partner could show her. Optimus reached to her immediately, his spark extending through their private little universe to touch hers.

The femme hugged him close, exploring him as she always did. Optimus rarely felt any different. His spark was always warm and welcoming, always eager to feel her presence. She was greeted by an overwhelming sense of love, Optimus's absolute passion and adoration for her pouring through their intimate connection. Back in the physical world, she gasped softly, and he kissed her briefly to silence her.

Elita pushed deeper into their bond, searching his innermost feelings. Optimus hid his face behind a mask, but his spark was always laid open and bare for her to read. She could feel his weariness, his pain at the wounds the last mission had given him. She sensed his desire for her, that intensely hot flame that always seemed to be burning, a fire that could never be quenched. She caressed that lust, and Optimus hissed softly. Her back was up at the wall again, her beloved looming over her with his hands braced above and to either side of her head.

Her arms remained firmly wrapped around him, embracing him tenderly. She'd always loved holding Optimus. She loved the feel of his smooth armor beneath her fingertips, loved the way their frames fit together so perfectly. She so enjoyed feeling the reverbrations of his frame, proof that her dear one was alive and well.

It took a few moments for her to realize that he was now touching her physicall as well as playing with her spark. His chest was rubbing lightly against hers, brief brushes that created small sparks of electricity between their chassis, stirring her spark within its case at the feel of its partner.

"Optimus," she whispered into his neck, lips moving gently on his warm throat. There wasn't another being in the universe she'd rather be holding, not another spark she wanted to feel. Optimus was all she had. He was all she wanted and all she needed. He was her only family, the only mech she'd ever loved. Her strong, warm mech was her everything to her.

"I know I don't tell you enough," she said softly, her fingertips tracing his jaw lightly. He turned his gaze down to her face, optics softening. Caught in the dim lighting, she looked like an angel in his arms.

"Don't tell me what, love?"

"That I love you," she sighed, snuggling closer to him--close enough that her armor began to snag on his.

"I know how you feel, dearest," he murmured, smiling faintly and reaching his spark to the femme he adored. "You're dancing with me, after all."

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**I am now very tired and am going to go to bed. The new TNS chapter is up, please review if you are so inclined :3**

**Hope you enjoyed, I just felt like writing a sweet little OptXLita piece. It's late and I didn't bother to edit it, so please be patient with any typos. **


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